Drabbleness
by Thunder S Silence
Summary: It's late, and my muse has decided that, since I am still awake, I must not need sleep. Thus, inspiration was had, and these drabbles were born, though I will upload only one tonight...
1. Love RATED T

She held her breath, trying not to weep. He was leaving - _again_ - and this time he wouldn't be back for another twenty years or so. She knew, because he'd said ten, and after having been married for forty years, she knew Yusuke well enough to know what he meant.

She was getting old, she knew, and she wasn't as spry or pretty as she used to be. He had been wonderful in taking all that in his stride, even as her slap began losing its edge. Their children had grown up, becoming normal people, having normal children, and never knowing their father's heritage. Of course, they'd also had to be led to believe that he was dead, as the man never aged, anymore. He'd stopped once he'd hit twenty, and had never looked better.

But, of course, duty called, and so he had to go to the Demon World again for the first time in twenty years, because he was a council member. He had stopped going to the tournament on their third anniversary, but in exchange had agreed to help rule the world in such a way as to preserve the human race. For Keiko, and his children. She had hated that, had hated that he couldn't stay with her. Because she wasn't strong enough to protect herself.

"I'm sorry, Keiko," he said, knowing his wife well enough to know exactly what she was thinking. His sixth sense didn't help much, either.

"Oh, stop it," she said, slapping his arm in a way that might have hurt him had she been thirty years younger. He tugged gently on a dark gray lock of hair that had escaped her bun while she had swept the floor earlier. She knew what that meant: he didn't want to go. She leaned into him, fearing that she was too old for him, too rooted to one spot for his still-young demon life. For a moment, she even considered letting him go, and telling him never to come back. Maybe that would be easier.

Then the image of what life would have been like without him entered her mind. There would have been no one holding her hand as her son was being born, no one to be the pillar of strength she had needed to pull out of the pain and continue to push for life, hers and her child's. There would have been no one to tell her that she was too old to work and that she needed to grow out of her 'straight-A student' mode and retire. There would have been no one to pick her up and make her happy and whole again when she had a miscarriage. She would be long-dead, now, without him.

She wept.

"It's going to be okay, Keiko, I promise. I'll come back to you. I will." he promised into her hair, holding her gently as her increasingly-weak bones required him to.

"But what if I'm not here when you get back? What if-" Her suggestion was too much for him. She could not know that was what he was trying to avoid seeing. He had altered fate once, and it had worked out well for him. If there was one thing he had learned over the last fifty years, it was that most fortunate accidents are not so the second time around. He could not afford to alter what was meant to be for his own selfishness. He held her by her arms and looked her dead in the eye, forcing himself to say what he had to in order to comfort his most cherished loved one.

"You will be here when I come back. I will feel it in my gut when you're close to being gone, and I will come back no matter what I'm doing. Do you understand?" He had to make her believe this. This one, last lie. She leaned into him.

"Okay." He would never forgive himself.

* * *

Five years later, Keiko was found dead in her house at eleven AM, having fallen sometime in the night and hit her head. The internal bleeding had killed her within an hour.

The funeral was a small one. Only close family and friends were invited, the Kuwabara's being among them. Kazuma's five children were also present, and comforted the children of the deceased. Yusuke tried not to be seen, staying towards the back and holding his girlfriend's hand tightly. His chest ached. His non-existent heart broke. And he knew. His lie five years ago hadn't been believed. She had known. And she had made her decision: let him live. She had always been selfless.

"So, she's gone now?" Mayu spoke respectfully, reverently, and knew that her lover's heart would never be hers the way that it had been Keiko's. He squeezed her hand tighter, and nodded, ignoring the growing burning in his eyes. He could not mourn even here, for Mayu was and always would be Yomi's citizen, despite whoever she played at being in love with.

Kazuma turned around, feeling Yusuke's presence, and nodded, acknowledging them. He had known Yusuke's thoughts since before the premonition had hit, as he had always been the stronger psychic. He had, despite his initial disagreement, stuck by Yusuke's side and respected his decisions. The ways of demons, he was discovering, were impossible for humans to fathom and could not be explained to the small minds of humans. Even Yukina, who did not age any more that Yusuke himself, was still a mystery to him, even after their long, strong marriage. Yusuke had regretted that Kuwabara could never understand why Yusuke had forced himself to move on, even before Keiko's impending death; and so Kuwabara could not understand that his bringing Mayu was a form of respect, not mockery. Yukina, it seemed, understood, and placed a calming hand over Kuwabara's clenched fist as the mourners held vigil. At last, as the flow of people began slowing down, Yusuke let go of Mayu's hand, and stepped forward, kneeling before the picture of his late wife.

"My love, I could never speak freely with you. And yet, you were the only one who would listen. Please forgive my insincerity. I wish I could have been here for you, could have been with you to the last. I'm so sorry." The goddamn tears escaped his eyes. He rubbed them with the back of his fist, hoping that Mayu wouldn't understand the feeling of pain emanating from him and wouldn't report this to Yomi, though he knew she would. "I love you so much."

And that was it.

She was gone forever.

* * *

Later on, Yusuke found himself alone at his desk in the Demon World. Desert winds blew outside his window, but despite the impending storm, no one disturbed him. It had been three weeks since the funeral, and Yusuke suspected that Mayu's absence was due to her reporting to Yomi. It had stressed him almost as much as Keiko's death had distressed him. Then, with the finality that only the impulsive could have, he came to a surprisingly philosophical conclusion:

Love is much like a dream. Sometimes, it sours quickly. Sometimes, more slowly. It can make our heart race, or bring peaceful, soothing pleasure. It can reflect our mental state, our stress level, even our deepest flaws and trouble. Sometimes we strive to achieve it, and sometimes we don't realize we have it. Regardless of how we feel about it or what we want, however, in the end, it ends. It is gone. We wake up. Good morning. How are you, today?

_Fine,_ he decided. _Life is not over. I am fine._

So he said. And so he ruled.

Though he never took a permanent mate after her.


	2. Hatred RATED M

THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PREVIOUS DRABBLE. THEY ARE ONLY POSTED TOGETHER BECAUSE THEY WERE INSPIRED AND WRITTEN TOGETHER!

Hope you like it just as much, though. I am grateful for the comments I've read so far!

* * *

Oh. This was too much. Too much pleasure. His eyes rolled back. His lips curled into a grin. Yes. This was true release.

It had been years since they'd been human together. He and Yusuke. And then they'd become what they were meant to be. What they'd always been meant to be. And it had been glorious. Until Yusuke had indulged his selfish desires a bit too far. Now was the time for payback. And Kurama _loved_ payback. With a fiery passion.

He squeezed the youngster's throat a little tighter, grinning madly as the boy's eyes rolled back into his head. _Oh, no, little Yusuke. You will not die from this._ Youko Kurama had never been the type to forgive. But then, this was a little too hot-headed for his tastes. He loosened his grip, but slammed the boy's head into the ground, knocking stars into Yusuke's vision. The fox rose, all malice and beauty as his tail swished behind him.

"Yusuke, Yusuke…" he started, deciding to play with his victim as he removed himself from above the youngster's torso. He began circling his prey as ideas pranced about his head. "Did you think me a fool?" He kicked the coughing youkai, who yelped and clutched at his at-least-bruised ribs. "_Me_? _Youko Kurama_?" Beautiful ocotillo vines grew up from the ground, only to dry and harden after wrapping around Yusuke's arms and ankles. The boy screamed as blood flowed freely from his wrists. The fox paid no heed.

"I have been quite generous, thus far, Yusuke. I have followed your lead. I have worked with you to rule your lands more efficiently. I have even-"

"You did nothing that wasn't for your own benefit!" Yusuke cried, finding his senses at last and interrupting the monologuing fox, who was far from pleased. He did not like interruptions. Squatting before the bound Mazoku's face, he grabbed Yusuke's chin, forcing eye-contact.

"You, Urameshi Yusuke, are a traitor." he accused, seeing no point in paying the boy's words any mind. The ones present were the parties involved, and so it did not good to deny or confirm the former accusation. The boy spit in his face, the insolent little brat! But no matter. He would understand soon. What it was to be hated by Youko Kurama, the nefarious thief of Makai.

"Fuck you!" the boy yelled. "You would have taken my province! It would have upset the balance of power! I'm all that stands between you and Yomi's lands!"

Things got very still after that, and Kurama slowly pulled the boy's head back by his hair, only to run a talon down the boy's cheek and jaw.

"Yes, you are all that stands in my way." And then he leaned down to the boy's ear, seductively, whispering as though to a lover. "And do you know what that means?" The young youkai was brave, he would give Yusuke that, but that did not stop him from trembling as Kurama rose to his full height, a wicked grin spreading across his features. This would be quite satisfying, indeed.

* * *

Two months later, Hokushin was finally released to go see his former master, Yusuke. He ran at full speed to his former-king and present-friend's side, where he discovered that Yusuke had been tortured crudely and cruelly for what must have been longer than two months. The Mazoku's hair was uneven, as if it had been ripped out some months ago and had grown back somewhat. His blood pooled on the floor on top of the cakes of it that already layered the metal. The boy's eyes were both blackened, and rivulets of red leaked from his eyes, nose, mouth, and sweat glands. His left arm hung oddly where it hung limply from his shoulder, as if it had been dislocated. He sat on his knees, barely covered, and bled from scratches on his thighs, both from nails and from the rose thorns that encircled his legs. He was hurt, and badly, but was still alive.

Hokushin was horrified.

As soon as they were out of there, he got Yusuke cleaned up, if only moderately, as not everything could be healed at once. Then he led his former-leader out to the balcony, where his new provincial leader had ordered him upon pain of worse death than Yusuke's to bring the boy. Slowly, as the Mazoku lifted his head, he saw what Kurama had done and was about to do.

All of his people - all of them - were either lined up as troops, or hung crucified on castle grounds. It disgusted Yusuke, but there was little he could do from where he stood. Not in the state he was in. It infuriated him. And, as they began to march, they headed in the direction of Yomi's province, which Yusuke had worked for fifty years to gain as an ally.

"No," he moaned, leaning out of Hokushin's supporting grasp only to land his weight on the banister for his knees to buckle beneath him. Then, an arm caught him around the waist, dragging him up a ridiculously perfect body.

"You see, Yusuke, what it is to be hated by me. I will destroy all that you've worked for. All that you've held dear. And, my friend, I will kill you. Slowly. Lovingly. Painfully. I will even go so far as to devote a monument to you: The Fool Who Played The Fox." He gently, lovingly, kissed the boy's cheek. "Who will rule Makai now, bitch?" And he laughed at Yusuke's anguish. "I will tell you a secret, now, my new pet." he ignored Yusuke's moan of pain and suffering as he carted the boy back to the throne room. "Do you know what hatred is?" The boy made no attempt to answer, but was still, looking hurt and unsure as Kurama plopped him down on the floor. It hurt, but not enough to jar him. Pity.

"Hatred is a form of passion so intense that simple physical contact is not enough to sate the wantonness." he began, watching his victim. In truth, he had never thought of Yusuke as anything more than a friend, but if he could leave confusion and pain in the boy's heart, as well, then it would finally be enough. Maybe. He continued, "It I blind to all advice and circumstance. It overwhelms the senses, bringing a euphoric wave of pleasure when the goal is reached and marks are left." Gently, he leaned forward and tilted Yusuke's face in his direction. "Surely, such a strong emotion as to leave physical and mental scars can fall nothing short of a passion equated to love, don't you think?" _Indeed,_ he added to himself, _what is hatred if not the darker twin of love?_


End file.
